Down the Road
by Cerafine
Summary: On a run after Andrea's death and the fall of Woodbury, Daryl and Michonne get a lot closer than they ever thought they would. Adults only, smut! Please review! :)


** GUYS: This is my first attempt at a one-shot Daryl/Michonne smut story, PLEASE review and let me know if y'all like it! Thanks, much love!**

Down the Road

By Cerafine

"Sooner or later, you're gonna have to talk to me." Daryl kicked a rock out of his path as he trudged down the road with her marching stoically at his side. Shooting a glance her way, he saw that her jaw was set stubbornly, her brow was furrowed, and her right hand was ready on the hilt of her sword strapped to her back.

"See, that's where you're wrong," she said quietly. She shot him an irritated look and walked faster, trying to leave him in the dust to avoid his attempts at conversation. It was always the same old thing with him.

"You gotta let it go," he said again, trying to reason with her for at least the fiftieth time since they had begun going on runs together for supplies. After Woodbury fell and the Governor disappeared, she had been searching for him like a fiend. It had been months, and he was just gone; no trace. Michonne wouldn't let it be though—she was obsessed.

She stopped short and whirled to glare at him, her eyes wide and furious, her lips pulled back from her teeth. "He killed Andrea," she hissed through gritted teeth. "He killed your brother. He killed a lot of people, and did worse than that to others. He deserves to die. And I'm gonna be the one to cut the evil out of him and watch the life drain out of his eyes." Considering the matter closed, she turned on her heel and began to stalk away from him agan.

"He may already be dead, ya know," he called after her. "your whole hunt for him might be pointless." It was worth a shot.

She flipped him off without turning around and kept up her grueling pace on the gravel road.

Daryl rolled his eyes and trailed after her. _Stubborn bitch. _For a long time after Woodbury fell and they had seeked out Philip Blake to put an end to him, he had gone with her or alone, searching for him. Merle's face wouldn't leave his thoughts. He had killed un uncountable number of walkers since the Turn began, but Merle was the hardest one he'd had to put down. He knew now why Andrea had had such a hard time putting down Amy, and he couldn't even imagine what Carl had gone through when he shot Lori to keep her from turning. It was why he had kept stabbing at his face with the knife after he knew Merle's corpse was down for good; he didn't want to see his face anymore, because it just looked like his big brother lying there... With his face gone, it was just another body, another dead walker.

He kept pace behind Michonne, lost in thought. Merle had been a son of a bitch, and he was a cheating, lying, drug-addicted,thieving asshole—but he was still Daryl's brother. Daryl had only a few good memories of his life before the Turn that weren't tainted by abuse or poverty, and they were all memories of time spent with Merle as kids. There was one, a day Merle took him fishing, that was his favorite:

_"Whattaya doin', dummy?" Merle asked him, not in a mean way, just how he talked to his brother. _

_ "I'm tryin' to get this reel fixed," seven year-old Daryl had grunted at him, fiddling with it. _

_ Merle, almost 14, rolled his eyes and got up from his post at the edge of the creek. "Hand it over, dipshit," he said tiredly, holding his hand out for the pole. Daryl handed it over, knowing that any resistance would lead to a scuffle that might end up with a fish hook in someone._

_ Merle fixed the reel, then baited a hook for Daryl, cast the line, and handed the pole back to him. "I know how to do that other stuff, Merle," Daryl snapped angrily, plopping down next to his brother in the muddy Georgia clay. "I don't need you to do it for me." _

_ Merle looked over at him, his face odd. Then he looked back out at the water, holding his fishing pole casually in his hands. "I know you can, little brother. I just wanna do stuff for ya once in awhile. Ain't nobody else ever gonna help you out in life, so I'm gonna do it when I can." He looked back at Daryl on his right and gave him a smirk that was almost a real smile, and he laughed. "'Sides, what are big brothers for? Gotta make sure you learn how to do shit right, so ya don't end up stupid." _

_ Daryl stared at him, surprised by the show of love. Since their mother had died, Merle was fairly detached, always hiding behind mean taunts, a bad attitude, and bullying behavior. Their father's daily abuse was the cause for it, and in a couple of years, Merle would run away from home after several more stints in juvey and leave Daryl to fend for himself against the bastard. _

_ Merle felt Daryl watching and glared over at him. "What you lookin' at, punk?" _

_ Daryl looked quickly back out at the water and gave the fishing pole a half-hearted tug. "Nothin', Merle, I wasn't lookin' at nothin'." He sat glumly by the water, waiting for a bite. _

_ Merle snorted and spoke up again. "Look, baby brother, since we're the only ones out here, let's talk. Always remember that in this life, I'm the only one who gives a shit about you. The old man don't, nobody at school does, and momma's dead." Merle looked hard at him, his eyebrows raised. "You and I, we're trailer trash. Don't nobody give a damn about people like us, so we gotta look out for each other and ourselves. Forget everyone else. You got that?" _

_ Daryl nodded quickly. "I got it, Merle." _

_ Merle moved over a little and slung his arm around Daryl's shoulder, giving him a half-hug. "Just you and me, little brother. I got your back." _

_ Daryl sat quietly and unmoving, afraid that any interruption would end the affection he was getting from his big brother, who was usually such a jerk to him. He was smiling, a rare occurrence in his life. A tug on his line did exactly that; Merle jumped to his feet and shouted: "Daryl, get your ass up! You got one! Reel her in, hurry up!"_

Still smiling and reeling as fast as he could, Daryl pulled the fish up onto the bank and Merle took the hook out, another thing Daryl could have done himself. This time, he didn't complain. 

"Earth to Daryl, you awake in there?"

Michonne's voice snapped him back to the present. "Yeah, sorry. You ready?"

They had reached the end of the gravel road the led off the main highway. They stood in front of an old gas station, with a scrawled sign in the window that read: TAKE WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT'S IT MATTER? in a cynical message. He snorted a laugh, then looked over and saw that Michonne was hiding a grin also. He was impressed; seeing a smile on her face was so rare it was monumental. He hefted his crossbow, kicked the door open, and pointed it inside, leading the way.

Once the building had been cleared, they began looking for anything that would help out back at the prison. They had found plenty of baby formula for Little Asskicker on the last run, enough to last for months; what they need most now was food. Rick was hard at work on his gardens and they were helping, but they needed more meat than Daryl could hunt down in the woods day to day. He searched the back room, looking for beef jerky and dried meat of any kind. He found very little, but Michonne found a shotgun with ammo under the counter at the front of the store, so it wasn't a total loss.

He watched her as she carefully searched around the counter and on the bare shelves for anything that might be useful. He hadn't always thought she was an attractive woman. The first day he had met her, he had thought she might be a threat and didn't think Rick should let her stay at the prison. He had even aimed his bow at her face.

As time had gone by, however, he had come to notice her hard, warrior-like beauty. Her dark, watchful eyes and her ebony skin. Her long, muscled arms and legs, her flat stomach, her slender artist's hands, her amazing ass. She was lethal and beautiful, and he doubted she even realized it. She was a survivor, like him; he wished she would tell him her story. But that, like her smile, was locked away tight somewhere in her heart.

She had a special friendship with Rick and Carl, and when she interacted with them was when he got to see her smile the most. Daryl wished she would smile at him that way once in awhile.

She knew without looking at him that he was watching her. "What is it?" she asked with her back to him. "You got more to say?"

He cleared his throat quietly and said, "You have a boyfriend before all this? A husband?"

Her back stiffened and she stopped. "That's none of your business, Daryl."

"Is anything my business? I don't know nothin' about you, really, and you've been with us for months. Ain't you ever gonna talk to me about anything? Talk to anyone about your old life?"

She turned slowly to look at him, her expression carefully blank. "Nobody needs to know about that part of my life. Why is it important? I don't talk about it because I don't like to talk about it. Isn't that enough of a reason?" She wasn't angry, not yet, but her voice was dangerously soft.

Daryl shrugged and cocked his head at her. "Wanna hear mine? Everything sucked ass for me before the Turn too. What-"

She interrupted him. "My life didn't suck before the Turn. It was the exact opposite, which is why I don't talk about it. I loved my life, and it was taken from me." She paused, considering revealing more, and then thought better of it. "It's in the past. Doesn't matter now."

Daryl pushed away from the wall he had been leaning on, walking towards her slowly. He knew she had an attraction to him too; he could feel it when she looked at him. He thought maybe it was the reason she was so surly and standoffish towards him; she was trying to hide it. "I was just thinkin'... if you ever need to, ya know, just unload and talk, I'd be that guy. You could tell me stuff." He was very close to her now, enough to smell the coconut scent of the soap she used. She didn't back away. Looking up at him, he could see some kind of conflict raging behind her dark eyes.

Mistaking what he saw, he held up his hands and leaned away. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya or-"

Michonne leaned forward and grabbed his chin roughly, cutting off what he was trying to say. "You don't scare me, Daryl Dixon." Her eyes blazed with something that he couldn't confidently identify. He waited for her to say more.

She asked in a lighter tone, "Are you lonely?"

Daryl was so floored by this that he didn't reply for a moment. Then he came back to himself enough to say, "Not really... I have everyone at the prison, and I've gotten to know them..."

She shook her head impatiently and asked again, still gripping his chin. "That's not what I mean. Are you _lonely?_" She waited for him to get it. This time he did.

He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. Are you?"

She gazed at him for what seemed like a long time before she answered: "Yes."

She carefully removed her sword from her back and set it gently on the floor. Then, in a flash, she was kissing him, not a shy or gentle kiss but a rough, passionate one. She had caught him completely off-guard and was backing him against the wall, her hands on his chest and her mouth working furiously against his.

When he finally caught up with what was happening, he realized he couldn't let her win this. He grabbed her upper arms and spun her around, pressing her against the wall and leaning into her as they kissed. She was making a growling, purring sound deep in her throat that was driving him crazy; he wanted her, right then. Feeling her hands in his hair, pulling slightly, he pulled her shirt up and waited for her to raise her arms so he could pull it off over her head. She obliged, and a moment later she was completely topless, her warm, bare chest pressed against him. She unbuttoned the buttons on his shirt and pushed it back, over his shoulders. He let his crossbow and the shirt fall to the floor. She fit easily into his arms, her lightly muscled back rippling under his hands as her breasts pressed against his now bare chest. He groaned at the feeling of it; it had been a very long time since he'd felt a woman's skin agaisnt his this way. He lowered his head and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, and her back arched as she panted with the sensation of his tongue against the senstive skin. As he worked, he unbuckled her belt and pushed her jeans down, letting her finish removing them as he switched to her other breast. She was whimpering, writhing beneath his touch, and he pulled back and braced his arms on either side of her head, staring at her hard. His breathing was fast and uneven, his sea-blue eyes wild.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked, holding her gaze.

Staring back at him, she took hold of his belt, unbuckled it, and shoved his jeans down, then took hold of his manhood, stroking it, making him lower his head and moan. He sucked his breath in through gritted teeth, then grabbed her thighs and lifted her, slamming her against the wall. She gasped at the aggression, liking it. She raked her short nails up his shoulders and gripped his neck, waiting. He positioned himself just over her, her legs wide and open to him. "I can't hold back," he grunted in her ear. "Then give me everything you got," she growled back in his, and he lost the perilous control he had been clinging to. He slammed his full length into her and she cried out with the sensation as he filled her again, again, again. Their hips locked together, their breathing hard and labored, their hearts hammering against each other, they were drenched in sweat and burning up from the inside out with the passion that was building within them. He grabbed her ass and pushed her up higher, angling himself upward into her. She called out his name, gripping his hair and holding his head against her shoulder, sliding her hands down to cling to the rock-solid muscles of his arms. His breath quickened as he felt her climax against him once, then twice, then three times, the hot wetness exploding around him as he thrust into her over and over.

He couldn't even try to slow down. He groaned to her, "Michonne, I'm about to... I..."

She gripped him more fiercely to her and whispered, "Do it."

He cried out and completely let go, reaching his orgasm and feeling it crash down through him like a wave. She sighed with satisfaction, stroking his hair and kissing him deeply. Still inside of her, he backed away from the wall on shaking legs and lowered them both to the floor.

He looked down at her, lying on his side. "That was... Did that really just happen?"

Her serious face broke into a sunny grin, and he couldn't help but grin back. "Yeah, it did," she laughed, then looked thoughtfully up at him. "Look. I don't know what your expectations are, but-"

"I don't expect marriage and lifelong love from ya," he said immediately, his eyebrows raised as he spoke. "I want your friendship, and if this comes with it, then I'm good with that too. I don't think we should make it into somethin' more... Unless that's what you want."

Michonne smiled, relieved. "No, you said what I hoped you would. I'm... messed up, Daryl. I don't have the full heart to be with anyone right now. This world is a bitch, and I don't want to start something like Glenn and Maggie have... it's too risky."

He nodded, stroking her back absentmindedly. "Think Rick would be pissed? I think he's kinda sweet on ya. Won't admit it though, no way to tell for sure I guess."

She snorted and playfully smacked his chest. "You think Carol would be pissed? That woman is just about psychotic over you. Figured you would've taken her up on that by now."

He shrugged. "Just never came up, is all."

She shook her head and watched his face. "You care about her, I know you do. Why not try to make something happen with her? Could be good for you."

Looking down at her with a smirk, he retorted, "I know you care about Rick too, and Carl. Why not try and make somethin' happen with Rick, then? That'd be good for you both."

She glowered at him and looked away. "Just can't lose anyone else. You included. That's why this stays friendly, right?" She looked worried.

He got to his feet, pulling up and buckling his pants. "Read ya loud and clear, boss."

She rolled onto her back, watching him dress and admiring him. "You have one fine ass for a white boy."

He snorted laughter and found his shirt, tossing hers to her. "You're a riot. Let's get our shit together and hit the road, we got another place to hit before we head back."

She dressed quickly and strapped her sword across her back again, then leveled her gaze at him. "We keep this between us, yeah?" She asked. "It's our secret?"

"I don't kiss and tell. Or screw and tell," he declared, winking at her.

Her face felt suddenly hot and she grinned again. "Gotta try not to smile like a fool when we get back either, or people will know without either of us saying anything," she said dryly. As they headed out, she gave him one last firm kiss on the mouth. "That was a lot of fun. Thank you."

"Yeah it was," he said in agreement. "Wanna do it again?" He looked at her mischievously.

As they began to walk, she nodded. "Next run?"

"You got it."

He slapped her rear playfully, she shoved him, laughing, and they headed down the road.


End file.
